Queen of the Living

Chapter 6

    Nawal awoke to the sound of Jack bursting through her apartment door.  She heard his heavy footsteps running up the stairs to her loft when the sound of Drago, the wolf, growled beside her bed.  She turned her head to see Jack slowly backing down the stairs in light of his presence being unwelcome.

    “You okay?”  Jack asked, only his head visible in the metal stairway.  The wolf stood up, still growling and Jack disappeared downstairs.  Drago circled around once, looked at Nawal, and returned to his spot next to her bed.

    “Why?”  Nawal whispered.  The wolf looked up at her, but didn't make a sound.  He yawned and layed his head back down.  She saw her shirt and pants on the handrail next to the stairs and felt the bandages across her stomach and chest.  She hadn't miraculously healed this time.  She could still feel the pain of her wounds deep in her body.  She looked up, and to no one in particular asked, “am I going to die?”

    “What the fuck?”  Jack was yelling downstairs.  “What happened?”

    “He's dead,” Carmela answered.

    “So is it over?”

    Vermilion answered this time.  “No.  Not yet.”

    “Well it's over for her,” Jack said.  “I'm no doctor, but she looks like she got beat up pretty bad!  Tell me she's going to make it?”

    “We'll see,” Vermilion answered.  “She's technically already dead, she just needs time to heal, at least enough to feed.  She'll be tip top after that.”

    “Feed?!  Are you kidding me?”

    “You think she's just going to regenerate on her own?  Like magic or something?”

    “Well, yeah!  Demons, pigs, thousands of eyes coming from her hand.  Regeneration doesn't sound so far fetched.”

    “She can recover naturally, but that will take time we don't have.  A little feeding and she'll be fine before you know it.”

    “Then let's do it.”

    “We've tried, but she was half conscious and wouldn't have anything to do with it.”

    “Well she's awake now.  How do we do it?”

    “The blood, it's upstairs beside her bed.  But don't even think about going up there now, she's not decent.  The dog can take care of it when she's ready.  You brought her bag with you?”

    “Yeah, it's in the car.”

    “There's some more stuff by the TV.  Take it to the car and put it in her bag, then come back and relax for a bit.  Make a sandwich or something.”

    Time passed with Nawal lying in bed, the pain preventing her from sleep.  She was dreading what she knew was going to happen next.  Things couldn't get any more morbid.  There was no 'hunger', as the movies called it.  The whole idea seemed disgusting.

    Drago finally got up, transformed into a man, and brought a Tupperware bowl full of blood to Nawal.  “No,” she said, her voice was still weak.  “I won't.”  He dipped his hand into the bowl and, like he was painting, rubbed the blood on her stomach.  Drago was clearly strong, but his touch was practiced and gentle.  He took care not to put pressure on her actual wound as he painted the blood on her.  He was a father, or a husband once, Nawal imagined, but her mind returned to the night before and she hated him.  Hated his betrayal, hated that he was touching her, hated that he was even there.  But she was too weak to move or protest. Anger built up inside her as she glared at him.  Unblinking, she stared.  She wouldn't look away.  He had to know.